Collecting Strays
by shells210
Summary: It was in her family even if it wasn't in her blood. Alison Grant, granddaughter of the famed Wildcat, takes to the streets as Alley Cat, his protege and the partner of Black Canary. She's not going in alone, along with her is her sister Christine, Shadow Cat. They team up with the greatest heroes to protect the earth from the forces of evil. Too bad every girl likes the bad boy.
1. Cats and Canary's

**Here I am starting a new story when I haven't even finished my old ones. This ones just been floating around in my head for too long to stay there anymore so here it is.**

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><p><em><strong>It is up to us to live up to the legacy that was left for us, and to leave a legacy that is worthy of our children and of future generations.<strong>_

_**-Christine Gregoire**_

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><p>The world was normal. Somehow, with costumed vigilantes and super powered teenagers running around it was normal. Magic was real, superheroes were seen in almost every major city and anomalies like worm holes and time travel were practically expected to happen now and again. Brightly clad figures soared through the air and as-seen-on-TV was proven by every major news agency on the planet.<p>

This was normal, expected, it was what she had been born and raised with, in a way that even the other children her age, those born just in time for the rise of superheroes, was not.

Oh certainly she watched Superman on the news and read about Wonder Woman's exploits in the papers. Without a doubt she followed the Justice League's official Twitter. She went to school aware of the possibility that it might not be there or that the road might be closed and she'd have to call in with her excuse and that of her sister.

It was the same with everyone she knew.

She doubted highly that other kids her age were the grandchildren of these same heroes that they watched on TV. Even more unlikely was that they suited up on the weekends with their grandfather and little sister and ran along rooftops, jumping down and beating muggers.

Yes, for her this life was normal. It was what she had known since she had begun a childs war on bullying, starting when she beat up a boy in the second grade for spitting on girl out the bus window. She'd been suspended for three days and during recess on her first day back the boy had tracked her down with three of his friends on the playground, out of the view of teachers, and hit her with everything he had.

She had fought back with literal tooth and nail. They had won, having number and size on their side and Alison had been suspended again, the boys running to the teachers before she could.

"Boys will be boys," her teacher had said, "You should have come to get one of us."

When she got back on the bus the same boy had yanked down the window as they stopped at a light, the same girl as before next to it, balancing a bike next to her mother. He had spit again, with disgusting aim, and laughed as the bus started driving away again, shouting a word that the seven year old didn't know but knew was meant to be mean. For the second time she launched herself out of her seat, tackling him and ripping his cheek open with her nails.

The principal, the child's aunt, had sat her down in her office after he had cornered with his friends again.

"You shouldn't provoke him," the woman told her, "Boys will be boys. You should know better."

It happened again.

And again.

And again.

He spit, she fought, they found her at recess, she was suspended. 'Boys will be boys'.

After she came home with a broken nose her father had very nearly torn their curtains into shreds before he had made the call that had changed her life. He'd called her grandfather, his father, Theodore Grant.

To the public he was someone else though, more than an ex-boxer and the sire of two bastard sons and just as many granddaughters.

To the public he was Wildcat.

Ted Grant had shown up on the doorstep of their apartment in Brooklyn a few hours later, looking no older than his son despite being almost eighty three. The man had stepped in, shedding his jacket and looking around until he saw Alison sitting on the couch, tissues stuffed up her nose.

On the floor was her four year old sister, Christine. They were exact opposites even then, in very strange ways. Christine was blonde haired and blue eyed, with the face of a doll and the fashion sense of a truck driver. She refused to have her hair at all long, instead demanding that it be short 'like tinkerbell!' from Hook. There were no skirts nor any pink, only pants and shirts.

Alison, on the other hand, had complexion a few shades darker, black hair thick and straight paired with brown eyes. She preferred lighter clothes, skirts and pretty things. She was louder than her sister, more out there and confident.

Right then though she had looked much more timid, admonished, berated, chastised and quiet.

Dark eyes peered up at her grandfather as her mother, Lucy, picked up her sister, carrying her to the other room while her father took a seat at the living room chair and her grandfather went to crouch in front of her. The girl hunched her shoulders, clearly expecting to get into trouble.

Ted, who had had only a minimal roll in both of his sons' lives, looked over at Thomas Grant awkwardly, who gestured for him to talk to her.

"So," he began, clearing his throat, "I hear you got in a fight at school."

Alison nodded silently.

"Well?" he prompted, causing the girl to look up, confusion furrowing her brows.

"Huh?" she asked.

Ted stared at her. "Aren't you goin to tell me why?" he questioned. Children were normally quick to tell about why it wasn't their fault that the fight had started, right?

"They spit on her, and called her re-retarded," the girl said quietly, a contrast to her normal nature, "So I hit him, and bit him, and scratched him."

Ted listened, a frown forming as he digested her words. "Well there's your problem!" her head snapped up to stare at her grandfather and her father groaned, standing up and fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket before walking out of the apartment.

"My problem?" Alison asked, curiosity in her eyes.

"You were bitin and scratchin him. Don't you know, kid? Fists are nature's problem solvers," said the superhero to the seven year old.

Alison straightened up in her seat, all her attention now on the man. "Fists?" she repeated.

"Fists," he held one up in demonstration, crashing it into his opposite palm.

"You know how'ta fight, right Grandpa?" she asked, scooting closer on the couch.

"Yeah," he agreed, somewhat wearily.

"Then, can you show me? So next time I can solve the problem? 'Cause I'm not gonna stop. As long as he keeps bein mean to people," the girl told her grandfather, jaw set stubbornly.

For a second Ted laughed.

"You sure aren't your dad's daughter," the man stated, standing up. "I'll show you how to fight, but you've got to be careful. Only pick 'em off of school grounds, and only ones you know you can win."

Alison smiled, hoping off the couch and bouncing on her feet.

"When do we start?"

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><p>Alison had been learning from her grandfather for almost two full years when she met her 'aunt' Dinah Lance. She had been walking along a balance bar on her hands when the old man had come walking into their training area, the private back room to a gym that he ran, teaching amateur boxers on the official paper, and training a nine year old to knock people at off the record.<p>

The girls gymnastics teacher had advised her to start practicing more in her off time, so she had asked her grandfather to install some equipment she could practice one. He'd set up a balance beam and a bar for her to practice on when he wasn't having her run drills on the punching bag or playing a strange version of dodgeball, one that mostly her running from tennis balls that he send at her.

So when her grandfather had told her to warm up without him she had stretched out, jogged around and chalked her hands before starting to practice on the beam. It was when she was upside down, her dark hair yanked back in a ponytail, that the door to the room opened and her grandfather called her name. She had swung her legs, bending over her back before her feet touched the cloth and he straightened up, turning to face the door.

Ted Grant stood there with two women, one with blonde hair that was threatening to grow darker roots and another with hair as black as the Grants'.

Ted waved his hand at his granddaughter, motioning for her to go to them. "C'mere for a second Ally, I've got some people for you to meet."

Alison had obeyed, hopping gracefully off of the bar and crossing the room barefoot. The tile was cold against the soles of her feet, though she paid it little attention. Cold rarely bothered her much anyways. The child stopped just shy of the three adults, looking up at the two women.

"Grandpa?" she asked curiously, tilting her head as she looked up at them.

"This is Dinah Drake, an old friend of mine," Ted introduced, "And this is her daughter. Dinah Lance. She'd goin to train with us for a while."

Alison frowned, squinting up at the younger Dinah before looking at the older one.

"Isn't naming someone after yourself kinda narcissistic?"

The woman stared at the girl in shock before her face lightened into a smile. "I guess it is. Where'd you learn such a fancy word though? You can't be more than eight."

Alison huffed, insulted. "It was vocabulary two weeks ago… and I'm _nine_!"

"Sorry, that's a very important distinction," Dinah agreed, watching the child's face scrunch up in confusion.

Distinction?

"Difference," Dinah II offered.

Alison pouted. "I knew that."

"Alright, that's enough chit chat," Ted decided, turning from the three women to the training room.

"I'm goin to see what Dinah can do, you can keep doin what you were when we got here Alley Cat," Ted patted her hair in passing and the girl whined, reaching up to try and guard her hair.

"Grandpa!" she objected, swatting at his hand.

"Show Dinah your flip!" he called over his shoulder as he led the younger woman to the boxing rink in the center of the room.

"Already setting up her ID Ted?" the older Dinah asked, crossing her arms over her chest and watching as the man hopped over the red ropes, the black haired woman climbing in behind him.

"Aren't you the one that just brought your daughter here?" he asked, handing the woman, who really had to be a teenager, a pair of gloves.

"Yes, but she's already seventeen," the older woman pointed out.

Alison wasn't listening anymore, trotting back to her bar and hopping onto it before she started a basic routine she'd been taught. Cartwheel, cartwheel, splits, cartwheel, ninety degree bend at the waist. She straightened, spinning on the side and taking a quick start. She spun suddenly, both feet leaving the bar as she twisted in the air, tucking in before she straightened for the landing.

She missed, catching the side of the bar instead of hitting it straight on.

The girl gave a startled cry as she was sent flying to the ground, her rear end striking the matt placed under the bar for just that reason.

Alison sat up, muttering fowl words that her mother would never know she had learned while the adults tried to hide their snickers.

Red in the face the girl stood back up, climbed onto the bar and started again. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the younger Dinah learn how to throw a punch and almost scoffed. She'd known how to do that since she was seven!

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><p>Snow fell around them, gathering in corners and crunching under foot. Between the ten year old and the eighty five year old walked the youngest of the family, now six. Lights of red, green and white gleamed above their heads, wrapped in intricate patterns around trees and buildings. On street corners men in red suits stood, ringing bells and standing next to suspended red boxes.<p>

Alison kept her left hand shoved into the warmth of her blue parka, the other hand holding one of Chris's as they walked down the street with their grandfather, who had been put on baby sitting duty whilst their parents went in search of Christmas presents.

The dark haired child watched the window, eyes on the toys and clothes that were displayed while her she talked with her grandfather and sister, pausing when something caught her eye in the window.

There, gleaming behind the glass with beautiful curves and perfectly carves hand holds. Alison actually slowed as she watched the light catch on the cold steel, reflecting her eyes back at her.

"Al?" Chris asked, poking her head around her sister.

"Hey grandpa," Alison called, eyes never leaving the display, "What do you know about knives?"

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><p>She was eleven when she was first allowed to go on patrol with her grandfather.<p>

She'd been given a make-shift suit, which was really just a Kevlar shirt under a hoodie. A mask snapped over her nose and around her head, keeping the hood up around her head and hiding her identity. Leggings and combat boots had her dressed all in black and ready to go. A knife was strapped on her right thigh.

It was a make shift costume, nothing fancy for her dry run.

Her grandfather's hand was a comfort on the top of her head as she crouched at the edge of a rooftop, dark eyes fixed on the ground bellow and heart thrumming rapidly in her chest.

"Ready to get your feet wet Alley Cat?" Ted asked, his costume true.

The girl nodded ad on the night of June 18th, 2004 Alley Cat leapt from the roof tops and dropped, feet first onto the muggers bellow.


	2. Sibling Rivalry

**Chapter 2!**

**Reviews;**

**Anime hotty lover.18: Thank you for taking the time to review! I'm glad you enjoyed it.**

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><p><strong><em>My mother always told me that as you go through life, no matter what you do, or how you do it, you leave a little footprint, and that's your legacy.<em>**

_**Jan Brewer**_

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><p>After her practice run went well Alison was allowed to start patrolling with Ted on weekends and during school breaks, making a public debut in November of the same year she had first been allowed out.<p>

Her makeshift outfit was replaced with a real uniform, one based on Black Canary's, seeing as her mother and both of the Dinah's had forbidden a miniature Wildcat costume. Instead she was set up with black ankle high boots, thick grey leggings and a one piece body suit that started halfway up her neck and ended just shy of the middle of her thigh, leaving her shoulders bare. Not that anyone would see that, or that her fingerless gloves went all the way up to her deltoid.

No, both the black suit and gloves were partially hidden by a sturdy grey 'trench' coat that she let hang open. A short blonde wig helped conceal her identity, an adhesive keeping the high grade peruke in place when she flipped and twisted around fire escapes.

All of this was topped off with a black and white Domino Mask that winged up at the corners. And, of course, a frightening collection of blades hidden about her person.

It was a full year of just her and her grandfather, and occasionally her newly adopted aunt, that she was introduced to another one of the Wildcats friends and trainee's, one Bruce Wayne, when he brought in a child a few years younger than she was.

He was small, with black hair and blue eyes. He stuck to Bruce's side like a burr, looking out at her and her grandfather from under dark bangs, scrutinizing the world around him.

They two had just gotten off of patrol and had returned to the recently dubbed Cattery and both were still suited up, Ted in his cowl and Alison in her mask. They'd been cooling down when the knock came at the back door, the one that only people who had been there before knew about.

Alison had risen from the mats on the floor, twirling a butterfly knife in hand as Ted walked over to the back door, pulling it open. He was silent for a second as he listened to someone talk that Alison couldn't hear from where she stood the door was pulled open and two people stepped in, a man and a boy no older Christine.

The girl stowed her blade into the pocket of her coat, jogging across the room to the trio.

"Grandpa?" she asked, looking up at the two men and down at the boy. She knew the new man, everyone who had access to basic cable could recognize Bruce Wayne. Why he was at her grandfather's place she hadn't the slightest idea.

"Oh, Ally, this is ah," he glanced at the man before continuing, offering no name, "And his, er, kid. Dick. He'll be training with us now."

The girl nodded and shoved her hand out, catching Dicks before he could react. "I'm Alison, don't call me Ally. If you do I'll kick you."

Dick paused before shaking her hand, a smile starting to spread across his face. "I'm Dick, short for Richard but don't call me that. If you do, I'll kick you."

The two men exchanged a look as adults sometimes did before Alison drew her hand back to herself. Dicks eyes slid over(or rather past) her shoulder, face lighting a few watts when they landed on something. Alison turned around, following his gaze to the few gymnastics equipment in the room. Alison smiled slowly, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat.

"Do you do gymnastics?" she asked, starting to walk back over, listening to Dick follow her.

"Yeah, my family is-" he cut off, his voice dropping, "were, acrobats."

Alison knew better than to ask what he meant, instead coming to a stop in front of the bars.

"That's cool. You must be pretty good then huh?" she waited until he nodded before she continued. "Then can you show me some stuff?" she asked.

The boy paused, tilting his head before he nodded. "Sure, I think I can do that."

Behind the pair Ted and Bruce watched Dick try and teach Alison how to perform a double flip off the bars.

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><p>Dick hit the rooftops before six months were up.<p>

No one could deny that he was good at what he did, and in time that Alison saw him he seemed to get more and more cheerful and outgoing, chatting her ear off.

Alison seemed to move a different way. Her fighting was brutal, for all she teased and taunted those that she opposed, and even around her family she became sharper, arguing more with her mother, her father and her sister.

Most of the time the fights were small, or should have been, and ended with Alison the victor. A satisfying thing for any sibling. She got the remote, she got the bathroom first, she got the last of the chips and the only soda left.

It was dismissed by their parents as a simple sibling rivalry and nothing to worry about, until the shoulder punches and shoves off the couch started growing harsher, leaving feint bruises. It became clear that the girl didn't understand that with her family she needed to hold back. Alison was sat down and talked to about it, repeatedly, after which she would find her sister in the middle of the night and kick her, usually in the leg.

"You told on me!" she would accuse.

Christine would shake her head. "I did not!"

Because everyone knows that snitches get stitches, and siblings were never an exception.

Eventually these fights hit their climax.

"I didn't tell on you, honest!"

"You broke the code!"

"I did not! They just saw you!"

"I didn't even do anything!"

"You hurt me!"

"I didn't mean to, you should have got out of the way."

"You're too fast!"

"No you're too slow!"

"It's not my fault!"

"I'm not allowed to go out with grandpa or Dick anymore, it's all your fault!"

"No it's _your_ fault, you hit me too hard and mom and dad-"

"You're not my real sister!"

The lights had come on down the hall and the door was yanked open by a partially furry father who was forced to turn as Alison sprinted out of the room, leaving the crying Christine behind her. She had snatched her Alley Cat coat off the hanger and gone running out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

The parents had looked at each other as the dark fur retracted from Thomas' face and arms, leaving him human once again.

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><p>Therapy was useless, in Alison's opinion. She had realized the second the words left her lips how stupid and mean they were, and that Christine was right and she had become what she had tried to get rid of. She had become a bully to her own family.<p>

Her parents didn't seem to understand that she knew this, and signed her up for a session with 'a talking doctor' by the name of Alexander Viera. She sat in his office, staring down at a board of tick tack toe on a coffee table. She was already upset. Every time she thought of what she'd said her stomach would twist in guilt and her hands would clench in shame.

Viera took a seat in a leather chair on the other side of the table, directly across the overstuffed couch the Alison sat upon.

"Ally," he began before the girl cut him off.

"Alison," she corrected, glaring sharply at him.

His smile made her skin crawl. "Alison," he corrected, "Your parents tell me you and your sister have been fighting lately. Would you like to tell me about it?"

There was a word for this man that she didn't couldn't quite place.

"No," she stated bluntly.

"I see," he clearly did not, "I understand that it's a little weird to be talking to a stranger about family things, but sometimes it's easier to talk with someone who isn't normally a part of things, easier to explain why you do something."

_If you think an unbiased view point will make me want to spill my guts you're an idiot. _

"No."

The mans smile was tense as he leaned forwards.

"Now Alison, I know that it can be difficult to find a place to start, so why don't I?"

_I'll kick your teeth in._

"You're mother mentioned that you said that Christine wasn't your 'real sister', why is that?" he asked, crossing a leg over his knee.

_Because I was mad and knew it would hurt her more than anything else._

"Dunno."

"You know Alison, sometimes when children are adopted they think that…"

She stopped listening then, sitting on the couch and glowering at the man. She knew what she was, it had never been a secret. Her mother and father had adopted her and her sister from teenagers who made mistakes. It worked out because with her fathers 'condition' it would have been a harder life for any kids they had biologically. Her parents had never tried to hide it, and she couldn't remember a time not knowing that she held no blood relation with any of her family.

It didn't matter. They were better than regular families anyways. _They chose her_. She didn't have issues, she didn't want to go out and find her 'real family' the way movies thought she did, the way this guy thought she did. Christine was her sister, for better or worse, and the only reason she had said otherwise was because she knew that her little sister would be hurt with those words.

She didn't need this, and she didn't like the man.

When she stood up to leave, after saying nothing else for the rest of the session, he called her parents in to talk to them and Chris, leaving her to sit outside with Dinah, who had come as well for one reason or another.

Dinah, who's hair was now falling well past her shoulders, sat next to her on one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room.

"Ally," she called, one of only three people who could get away with it. Dark eyes met her bright blue. "Are you ashamed of being adopted?"

Her back straightened and anger flashed across her face. "No! It's not that at all!"

"Then why did you tell Chris she wasn't really your sister?" Dinah sounded completely different, like she really didn't know the answer and wanted to.

"Because I was mad that she got me in trouble and I'm not allowed to be- be a cat for a few weeks," she lowered her head, kicking the ground.

"You already hurt her," Dinah pointed out, "There's a bruise on her arm."

Shame colored her cheeks and the girls fingers curled into fists. "I didn't mean to hit her that hard. I just wanted the cereal. She hit me first."

"Yes, but you're a lot stronger than she is, not just because you're bigger but also because of all of your extra-curriculars. You have to hold back with her, even if you don't with anyone else."

Dinah leaned down so she could see Alison's face, balancing her elbows on her knees. "Do you understand?"

Alison looked up at her before averting her gaze again and nodding. "Yeah, I get it."

Dinah sat back, looking satisfied. "Good. Now, what did you say to Dr. Viera?" she asked, drawing a whine from her young partner.

"I didn't say anything to him. I didn't like him. He was so, so," the word hit her like a brick, "Condescending!"

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><p>She never went back to Dr. Viera. She never said those words to her sister again. In fact she said little to anyone in her immediate family after that, becoming quiet around all of them, and all of the kids at school. She didn't jump in against bullies anymore, standing up for people but not taking physical action any more.<p>

All of that was left for the streets and the night, when her mask was secured and her laugh filled the air, her heels crashing into knees and teeth.

The bathroom counter became covered in make-up products, most of which was used to cover black eyes and bruised cheeks, and Alison, for all her fighting and her former reputation, fell in with the A-listers her last year of middle school, carrying over into freshmen year as well. She was as well liked as a freshmen could be, talking about clothes and the latest news with cheerleaders and football players.

All of this was for the day, for school, for the light of the day that reflected in her smile. The rest of Alison walked in the dark, was sucked into the shadows of ally ways and circles under eyes. There was something exciting about her 'extra curriculars' that had her coming back no matter how many bruised ribs or bullet holes she was met with, something dangerously enticing about running rooftops and sprinting into gun made her heart race and her blood rush.

She was in love. Not with any person, no, she was in love with the thrill of the fight.

And, unfortunately, infatuated with one of the people she fought.


	3. The Snow Man

**Anime hottie lover.18: indeed she does. Sorry this took so long, I've been working on school.**

****I own my Cats.****

****And for anyone who doesn't think that adopted people think the way that I'm writing: Yes,_ We_ Do. My two sisters, my English teacher, my friend, my other friend, and I all hold the view of 'popular portrayal of adopted people is ignorant and stupid.' Here I will write the truth. ****

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><p><strong><strong>My legacy would be that you don't have to give up anything- Michael Kor<strong>**

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><p>"So where are your real parents?"<p>

Alison looked up from where she was scratching away notes on her paper, squinting at the girl in front of her. The teacher up front continued rattling off equations, scribbling numbers and shapes up on the board. The freshmen geometry class watched with disinterest, a fair amount falling asleep in their chairs. In the front left corner a group had begun playing Black Jack, betting Gold Fish and Special K.

"At my house," she stated at last, voice perfectly flat.

Surprise appeared on her classmates face. "You live with them?"

"Of course," Alison drawled, propping her chin in her hand. Laura, who was doing her make up in the seat next to her friend, was hiding a smile.

"Isn't that weird? Having your real parents and your adopted parents together? How do you keep track?" the girl pressed. The boy next to her had turned too. What were their names? Amy and Tony, she thought. To her other side Adonis was frowning at the pair.

"My real parents are the ones that adopted me," she clarified.

"But they're not your real parents, right? They didn't like, give birth to you."

"No," Alison allowed. "The one that did _didn't want me_. My _real_ parents raised me for fourteen and something years."

"Okay, fine," the girl was quickly loosing patients (and clearly getting fairly embarrassed), "What about you _biological_ parents?"

"Don't know. Don't care," she didn't snap. She never snapped. But she was as close as Alison Grant got.

Adonis spoke up loud enough that their partially deaf teacher heard. "Shouldn't you be taking notes?"

Mr. Lowe turned around, catching sight of the pair of turned around kids. Off to the side the card players were scrambling to hide everything, shooting glares at the line-backer.

"Ms. Jones, Mr. Morris, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

Both turning red with anger and shame the pair turned to face forwards, mumbling denials. Mr. Lowe glowered at them for a few more seconds before turning back to the board. The chalk struck it, leaving behind angry math problems.

"That was stupid of them to ask," Laura commented after a minute.

Adonis nodded his agreement. "Very ignorant."

"They're not the first to make that mistake," Alison felt like reminding them. Laura shrugged, pulling out a pack of Milk Duds and passing them to Adonis, who promptly shoved a handful in his mouth.

"Still. Stupid. Do you like Warheads?"

Alison snorted a laugh. "Why do you always have so much candy?"

"It's my job to confiscate what my brothers get from their teacher. Does she not understand that they're diabetics?" Laura asked, face scrunching up. The cheerleader was small, the one that always got boosted onto the top of pyramids.

Alison merely shrugged. "I'll take one."

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><p>The first time she met him it wasn't a nice meeting, it wasn't cheerful or magical. It was down and dirt, a bare knuckled brawl between her and one of the men that worked for his father while he tried to turn her into a popsicle. She could remember the first words she said to him<p>

"Watch where you're throwing that Frosty!"

It was said as she twisted in the air, flipping neatly over a wave of what amounted to projectile liquid nitrogen.

Her hands caught the ground, concrete catching the calloused pads of her palms for a moment before she pushed off and landed on her feet. The heels of her boots had barely touched the ground before she was rushing him, dodging from side to side, avoiding the spikes of ice that tried to impale her.

She couldn't tell if the boy, who couldn't be any older than her, was angry, afraid or something in between.

"Jr.!" his father barked from the side, distracting him enough she could dart in, bringing her hands up in front of her face. A boxers punch shot out, the right hook crashing into the side of his face. The kid went sprawling on the ground, eyes rolling.

Alison stepped back, pausing momentarily to look down. She could practically see the birds spinning around her head.

"Are you… okay?" she asked carefully. She'd never dropped someone so easy. Never! The kid must have a glass jaw or something.

Her only response was a groan of pain.

"Right…" she shook her head quickly, turning to look around. There were men laying in her wake, all of them sprawled around, clutching various body parts or not moving at all. Several were bleeding from small, painful cuts that she had left on them. Around her grandfather and aunt were finishing up everything else. The only person left standing was Icicle Sr., who was resorting to going toe-to-toe with the Wildcat.

Alley smiled.

He'd already lost that fight.

The boy on the ground twitched a few times.

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><p>Their second meeting went much like their first. He had been broken out of Juvie, his dad had busted out of jail and the pair had gone off on a crime spree through her city. Why they stayed there she wasn't entirely sure, nor did she much care. All she knew was that there was a fight to be held.<p>

The girl laughed joyously as she threw herself into the fray without a second though, sliding into punches, kicks and flips with the grace and ease and grace of the creature who's name she took on.

When she broke out of a knot of tangled limbs and clumsy attacks she found herself face to face with the younger of the Icicle pair. Pale blue eyes met dark brown, wide with surprise. Alison's sparked with excitement. His hands were raised, frost at his fingertips before she brought her trench knife up, handle spinning onto her fingers before she drove into the side of his arm. Curiously it missed, skipping off a coating of ice.

There was a moment of silence where in the two adolescents stared at each other in mutual surprise before a grin that matched her own perfectly flashed into place, revealing white teeth and blue braces inside the frozen boys mouth.

Excitement rushed through her veins, anticipation twisted her stomach, something she didn't know of touched her cheeks with heat.

Her fist flew. The boy ducked, holding out a hand. A wave of ice shot from his finger tips to the ground at her feet. Alison yelped, slipping as her traction vanished suddenly. Her rear end slammed into the ground painfully.

A laugh was startled out of the boy in front of her, who had seemed almost shy upon their first meeting. Alison's eyes snapped up to him, her lips twitching upwards as a laugh tried to escape her. Instead she lashed out, landing a kick to the boys shin.

He hit the ground, managing to scrambled up and away at about the same speed she did whilst fumbling on the ice.

"Jr.! Stop screwing around and go!"

Some of the excitement left his face, replaced by something that Alison couldn't describe.

"Right, sorry Dad!" he called, voice cracking hard enough that Alison started choking on her laughter. He sent her a dirty look and another wave of frost that she –somehow- managed to dodge by diving to the side. Concrete struck her shoulder as she rolled back to her feet.

"Alley!" Wildcat shouted from where he was taking on a pair of thugs about a foot taller than he.

"I'm gone," she called back, already sprinting after the boy. She shot into the alley, a startled scream leaving her lips when her feet went flying out from under her. Her back hit the ground, carrying her into a wall from the momentum.

Laughter brought her eyes to the source of her problems, Jr., who was doubled over, clutching his stomach and pointing at her.

Her cheeks flushed brightly. "It's not funny! How do you stand on this stuff?" she demanded hotly.

He didn't stop laughing, but it lowered enough he could talk. "What? It's just like skating."

The color of her face darkened. "I don't skate," she snapped.

"You don't?" he sounded honestly surprised.

Finding a way to catch him Alison nodded, trying to push off the wall. A knife dropped out of her sleeve and into her hand, hidden from the boy. She kept precarious balance on the sheet of ice that he had turned the alley into.

_Keep him talking. _

"I have no idea how to skate. The closest I've ever gotten to it was, well, the last time I saw you."

"It's not that hard," he tried to tell her. The girl rolled her eyes.

"For you. You're like, made of ice. Of course you're good with it."

The boy was shifting around, starting to back away. Her eyes stayed on him, sharp. "What, you don't like hanging out with me, Frosty?" she asked, feigning offense.

He snorted. "Yeah, I love hanging out with the girl that threw me in juvie."

"Well if you weren't stock piling weapons…"

"I wasn't using them!"

"Tell it to the judge," her arm snapped out. The knife went flying. The boy shouted when the hilt struck him right between the eyes. Alley jumped, boots striking the wall and sending her high enough to grab an over handing fire escape. She flung her weight forwards, letting go and flying feet first into the boy.

Her heels dug into his chest and he fell back, slamming into the ground. She had the sense to put her hand behind his head to keep it from slamming into the ground. She wanted him down, not dead.

He stared up at her, dazed from the fall. The girl shifted, pulling out a thin line of wire from somewhere in her long grey jacket. She used it to tie his thumbs together before trying to walk off of him. It didn't really work, seeing as as soon as she put her foot down she joined the boy on the ground.

Sirens screamed around the corner, snapping her opponent out of his stupor. He started scrambling, trying to pull his hands apart but finding that if he tried he would lose his thumbs. He stared down at them, then at her, and finally at the approaching light.

"Let me go," he demanded, panic touching his voice.

Alison gave him a funny look, sitting up slowly. Cold was creeping into her skin. "Why should I?"

"Because- because, I'll, um, teach you to ice skate!"

The offer was so sudden and so absurd Alison almost started laughing. Maybe that was why she reached into her pocket and pulled out a frighteningly sharp butterfly knife. She sliced through the wire, looking up to meet eyes much lighter than her own.

"Kenworth park, Friday, nine o'clock. You bring the ice." Her eyes danced with light.

As he ran off Alison watched him go, wondering idly why none of the boys at her school had eyes as pretty as his.

* * *

><p>Friday wore on far too slowly for Alison's liking. Her friends could see it. Laura poked her side a few minutes before their last class let out for the day. When she looked over Alison saw Adonis and Molly leaning over to look at her as well.<p>

"Uh, yeah?" she asked wearily. Laura was giving her the look of Interrogation, the one that she only ever gave Molly when she was trying to wheedle out of telling a secret. Alison was a better liar, so it was rarely put upon her.

"Who is it?" Laura asked, excitement clear in her bright blue eyes.

Alison gave a very intelligent 'huh?'.

"The _guy_," Adonis translated, propping his chin on his hand. Behind him Molly started pushing her fingers through his newly short hair. He was a few shades darker than Alison, clearly from south of the border as compared to her, who could have passed for a very, very tan white girl or light Mexican. In reality her heredity put her somewhere in Costa Rica. And technically Italy, but that didn't mean anything to Americans.

"You've been acting funny all day," Molly continued, face peaking up over the height that was their aptly named male friend.

"So there has to be a guy," Laura at last concluded, nodding her head so fast her blonde ponytail almost knocked her paper off the table.

"Or a girl," Lucas, who had apparently been eavesdropped, added in from behind them.

The quartet glanced back at their token gay friend, who had already gone back to writing up his essay, something that the other four should have been doing. It was weird, Alison mused, that almost all of her friends were in this particular finance class.

"Or girl," Laura agreed, turning blue eyes on Alison. "So, which is it?"

Knowing there was no way out now the girl sighed, looking away. She'd never shown an interest in having a boy(or girl)friend before so this was something that she must share or she'd be pestered until a door was slammed in their faces.

"It's a guy. I'm meeting up with him tonight, and he's going to teach me how to skate," she admitted, bowing her head in embarrassment, something uncharacteristic for Alison Grant or Alley Cat.

Laura gave a partially squealed "aw!'' and Molly started grinning hugely, perfectly white teeth acting as a strong contrast her dark complexion.

"It's not like that! It's not a date…officially."

"But you like him," Laura pressed.

Pressing her lips together Alison nodded. "He's cute, but we don't really know each other well, and he seemed kinda… shy the first time I met him? He's not now, as much. More finicky. Like he doesn't know if he should be happy or mad most of the time. It might have just been me. I don't know. I hope he actually shows up, the plans were kinda messily made and-"

"Alison," Molly cut off her rambling. She jerked her head up from where it had been close to disappearing into the collar of her loose jacket, finding all of her friends smiling at her in bemusement. Her face heated quickly, a fact that she cursed. She was usually much more composed than this.

"You'll be fine," Laura assured her, "It's you. He'll show, he probably can't resist."

Hesitantly Alison nodded. Her nerves quelled somewhat.

"Grant! Tores! Quinn! Carter! I want those essays by the time you leave today!" Mr. Mcnamara shouted from the front. The four cringed away from the sound of his voice, quickly getting to work. Discretely they glared at him. No one liked Mr. Mcnamara.

He was an asshole.

* * *

><p>The park was deserted but for drunks and the homeless. It wasn't uncommon, at all. Kenworth park was old, unused but for drug trades and prostitutes. It was too cold by then for even them to come out though, unless they were truly desperate.<p>

That night it appeared that non were.

It also seemed that Alley had dropped from the roof of a neighboring building for nothing but sore knees. She didn't see Jr. anywhere. Why she expected to see him she didn't know. He was a criminal, so really she should have known he wouldn't show up. A frown marred her face, pulling the edges of her mask down.

"You're late."

She spun around, blade slicing through the air on instinct. A yelp was heard and the boy she'd been looked for jerked away.

"Hey, hey, put that away! Chill!'

She stopped and stared at him. He stared back. Very slowly he dropped his face into his hands, shoulders shaking. Alley cracked a laugh, snapping the weapon away.

"I can't believe you actually said that!"

"Shut up!" he demanded hotly.

Her grin was teasing. "Make me!"

In an act so childish it sent her laughing all over again the boy stuck his tongue out at her.

"Who even are you?" he asked, scowling darkly.

She paused. Had he not picked up a paper in the last few years? "I'm the Alley Cat. Alley. And you're Icicile Jr.?"

He nodded. "Well yeah, but I didn't mean your ID-"

"That's lame. You're Frosty from now on," she declared, interrupting him before he actually asked her real name. They both knew she wouldn't tell him.

Frosty sputtered. "No! I'm not a snow man!"

She sent a pointed look to the kyyokenetic. "Really?"

He couldn't even deny that. She could physically feel his glare.

"Alright Frosty, what would you prefer? I'm not calling you Jr. or Icicle. Icy? Frost Bite? Frost Butt?" she rattled off the options.

'My name?" he tried, brow starting to twitch.

"Cameron?" she thought about it for a few seconds before shaking her head. "Nah. I like Frosty better. So," she continued before he could interrupt, "Are we skating or what?"

A good sized part of her wanted the answer to be no.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say KitKat."

She paused.

"Excuse me?"

He looked innocent. "KitKat. You're terrible, just like them."

"KitKats are amazing!" she objected, appearing scandalized by his implications that they were anything but the best candy in the world.

"They suck!" he retorted. Alley punched him in the arm. "Hey!"

"Hay is for horses," she retorted smartly.

Frosty gave a sarcastic 'neigh' before continuing on. "Alright look, I'm here to hold up my end of the deal. Now hold still."

He aimed his hands at the ground, ignoring the squeak that Alley gave when the ground around the pair exploded into a thick coating of ice. Cameron, who had looked relatively normal before, had turned pale blue when his powers activated. The girl stood frozen in place. Pun intented.

A mischievous smile appeared on the boy's face and he flicked his wrist. Ice shot out at his companion, hitting her boots. She jerked, trying to move away but the newly made blades he had put on her feet instead sent her falling head over heels.

"Dude!" she wailed, sitting up and rubbing her head. "Warn me next time!"

"Nah, I think I like you better this way," he teased. Her glower was met with a smug grin.

"Dick," she accused.

"You want mine," he retorted.

A slim brow rose high, clear through the mask. "You have one?"

"Shut up!" he snapped intelligently.

"Make me," she challenged. Then looked down at her feet and changed her mind. "Actually, you know what, just help me up."

Snickering at her inability to help her up Frosty did as requested, offering his hand. She took it in a surprisingly strong grip, allowing him to pull her up. She almost fell flat on her face right after. It was only his steady hand on her shoulder that kept the girl upright.

She stared wide eyed down at the ice, eliciting another laugh from the boy.

"I won't let you fall… much."

If she wouldn't have lost her balance she would have kicked him. He knew, she knew he knew, she could see it in his smug grin.

"Come on, it's easy, just, uh, keep your knees bent and your weight in your ankles. Lean forwards a little," he instructed, starting to move away. When he did she panicked, jerking suddenly enough she pitched forwards. He caught her, probably more on instinct than anything else. She lifted her head, finding herself much closer to him than she originally thought.

Frosty kept his grip until she had managed to regain her balance, heard beating faster. This was wrong. She shouldn't have been there, she should have turned him over to the police. She shouldn't be trusting him with anything, even something as simple as the safety of her tailbone.

A thrill shot through her veins.

She was screwed.

* * *

><p>By the end of the night she was able to successfully go in circles around him. Cameron watched the girl, able to see her eyes through the mask she wore. Dark brown held a bright light, a smile flashed whiter than his hair. She still stumbled but he didn't have to stay close enough for her to grab his arm if she lost her balance.<p>

It was weird, he hadn't actually been expecting her to let him go over something as simple as skating. But she had, and he had held up his end of the deal(really he should have been underground by then) for some reason.

And here they were.

A startled laugh escaped the girl when she stumbled and managed to catch herself, a bright grin on her face. She looked over at him, her smile spreading to his face. He'd never seen anyone so happy to be able to do something so simple.

"Why didn't you ever learn before?" he asked, turning easily on his heel to keep following her.

Her smile dimmed a bit. "I tried once, when I was a kid. I was, ah, six? Seven? So about seven or eight years ago I tried it out with my grandpa. It was a lot of fun, even if I was tripping all over the place. He promised to take me again."

"The Wildcat took you Ice Skating?" he repeated, brows furrowing. He couldn't imagine it. The picture was too bizarre.

Alley Cat shook her head. "No, my mom's dad."

"Well if you had fun why didn't you go again?" he pressed, not understanding.

"He said he would take me. But he, well, he kind of fell off a roof. And broke his leg in three places. So now he can't even stand up, let alone teach someone how to do something like skating," the girl shrugged. "I just kinda gave up after that. Until you started tripping me up," she accused, pointing at him in mock drama.

"Yeah, all the girls fall for me," he stated oh-so-humbly. He'd gotten over the bout of shyness he'd had when he met her the first time. It was mostly because she seemed happier to be in a fight than anyone else he'd ever met, even Jade. That, and he may or may not have felt like a bit of a dork, being a scrawny kid with braces in face of pretty blonde girl who was clearly developing well.

"Uh huh, I'm sure those braces really highlight your magnetic personalit-ee!" her words were cut off by a shriek when the girls right foot flew backwards, sending her pitching forwards. Cameron threw his arms outwards, his power exploding from his fingertips. Instead of cracking her skull on ice she flew head first into a thick snow bank, sending white powder everywhere.

Laughing the whole time, Cameron skated towards her, ice covering the soles of his tennis shoes. She had disappeared completely into the snow. He leaned forwards, peering in. An arm shot out suddenly, catching the edge of his T-shirt and yanking the boy down into the snow bank. He shouted in surprise, hearing Alley Cat laugh. He pulled back out of the snow, turning to see her take a few wobbly strokes back out onto the ice.

She was grinning at him cheerfully, catching the rhythm of skating again. Cameron rolled his eyes, climbing out of the bank and taking off after her. They moved in a lazy circle, falling side by side. Cameron pulled in front of her one, picking up speed and jumping in the air, twisting into a spin before he landed again. When he looked back she was staring at him wide eyed, mouth partially open.

Pride welled in his chest.

"Teach me," she demanded. A grin slid across his face.

"You'll have to catch me first," he announced, spinning around and skating out of her rage. An enraged shout followed him, the sound of ice against ice picking up with her speed. He took of, leaving extra slick patches of ice behind him.

He was totally cheating.


End file.
